


Rule Number 12

by romansilence



Series: The NCIS family [2]
Category: NCIS, Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romansilence/pseuds/romansilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months after Jenny's death, Ziva Returns to America and finds solave in Abby's arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rule Number 12

Disclaimer: the characters and background stories known from the TV show  
"NCIS" do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit  
will be made.  
This is an alternative fanfiction story. Depicting two consenting adult women in  
love. Including elements of light BDSM. If the name and attitude of one my minor  
characters, remind you of another Show, it's not by chance "Sanctuary" does also  
not belong to me but to Damian Kindler and Stage3Media. I apologize for not  
giving her more room, but I might revisit at a later time.  
Pairing: Abba/Ziva. This is a loose sequel to my Jenny / Ziva story "Of Guilt  
and Forgiveness."  
I apologize for the uninspired title. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

Summary: At the Beginning of season six, Ziva is back the US. Abby helps her  
grieve for Jenny and offers a new chance for love.

_______________________________________________________________________

After four months with in Israel Ziva David, daughter of Mossad Director Eli  
David, was back in Washington. She had orders to report to NCIS directly after  
her plane had landed. Instead she knelt on the ground in front of Jenny's grave.  
Her eyes were red but her face was dry, as always the tears refused to come, but  
tears would be wasted anyway without Jenny holding her in her arms and telling  
her that it was alright to feel.

Ziva thought back to the last time she had been on that cemetery, for Jenny's  
funeral. She had been standing next to Gibbs while one of Jenny's distant  
relatives had received the folded flag, a man who probably had not seen her in  
years. Gibbs had had his arm protectively around an obviously distraught Abby.  
There had been tears in Timothy's eyes. Ziva remembered that she had envied them  
for being able to openly show their emotions, envied and resented.

To Tim Jenny had been nothing more than a boss. To Abby she had been a sisterly  
friend. To Gibbs she had been a former lover. To her Jenny Shepard had been  
everything; she had been her boss, her friend, her lover and the one person in  
the world whose presence in her life had assured her sanity. No one understood  
her the way Jenny had, not even Gibbs who in his own, unique way had a lot of  
insight in her head and her heart. Jenny, she had been the one loving constant  
in her life and Ziva berated herself for not having told her often enough how  
much she meant to her, how much she loved Jenny.

And it was her fault that Jenny was dead now.

Accompanying NCIS Director Shepard to the funeral of a fellow agent should have  
been a routine mission, but things had started to go wrong right after the  
funeral service. The director had ordered them to take the rest of the day off,  
and when Ziva had protested Jenny had taken her aside. She had put her hand on  
Ziva's cheek and told her that she was alright and Ziva should take advantage of  
the weather and enjoy the sun. She had told her to take care and that she would  
call should she need anything.

That tender touch alone should have told Ziva that nothing was alright. Jenny  
was too professional to indulge in public displays of affection. She also should  
have picked up on the sudden tension in Jenny's posture. She should have  
followed Jenny instead of joyriding with Tony. The knot in her stomach had  
gotten tighter and tighter and when they finally had caught up with Jenny and  
Franks it had been too late. Jenny had been dead and Franks gone.

She had failed in her duty to protect Jenny. She had not been there when Jenny  
had needed her. She had not been there to keep her from dying. She had not been  
there to save Jenny. She had not been the one to execute Jenny's murderer.  
Ziva had been so angry when she finally had clued in on Gibbs' plan to take out  
the client of the hit men hired to kill Jenny. When she had arrived at Jenny's  
house she had been just a few seconds too late. She had rounded the corner when  
Franks' gun had gone off and she had seen that woman fall. All that had been  
left to do was to help with the cleanup and make sure that there would be no  
evidence incriminating anyone at NCIS. Then she had watched from across the  
street, hidden in an alley, how the fire department had tried in vain to save  
the brownstone and how they had successfully fought to keep the fire from  
spreading to the neighbouring houses.

It had hurt to see the beautiful building burn, but somehow it had also felt  
right. The house had been such a reflection of Jenny's personality that the  
thought alone someone else would make it their home was completely unbearable to  
Ziva, it was Jenny's house, and now it would always be Jenny's house.  
While they had set the charges to fake a gas explosion Ziva had put her necklace  
with the Star of David on Jenny's desk in the library. It had been a gift from  
Jenny to replace her first Star of David her mother had given her which had been  
damaged beyond repair by a sniper bullet meant for Jenny. It had felt right that  
her talisman would be destroyed together with the house.

She had failed Jenny. She never again would deserve to wear it. That, however,  
didn't keep her from trying to touch it again and again, even after four months.  
Ziva still missed it; she probably always would.

-x-x-x-

Ziva's cell phone beeped, the one she had not used in four months. It was the  
number two on her speed dial, Gibbs. She ignored it. She no longer was afraid of  
Gibbs' wrath. She had not wanted to come back to America or NCIS and was still  
surprised at the vehemence of her father's orders.

"That's not open to discussion, Officer David. It's an order. You will return to  
your former position as Mossad liaison officer under the command of Special  
Agent Gibbs. You fly out tomorrow morning and are to report to the Navy Yards  
immediately after your arrival."

There had been nothing to say but, "Yes Sir." But she was still bewildered about  
those orders. In the past three years, every time she had come back to Israel to  
visit friends and family her father had always urged her to ask for another  
assignment, to come back home for good, and now he was the one sending her away?  
Had she really just thought of being back home as 'visiting'? Yes, she had, and  
somehow it did not feel wrong. Israel had stopped feeling like home after her  
mother had died, and her aunts' attempts to take her place had never been  
enough, despite their best intentions. Israel was still her country, and she was  
sworn to protect it. But her home, no, that was something else entirely.  
Her desk at NCIS had been her home. Abby's lab had been her home, her old  
apartment had been her home. Jenny had been her home.

Yes, Eli David had always wanted her to come back to Israel, back at his side,  
back to be his assistant and trouble shooter, to be what she had been raised to  
be, the sharp end of the spear. He even had admitted that he only agreed to send  
her to America in the first place because he had owed Director Shepard a favour.  
After Jenny's death he had her where he had always wanted her, an operative  
unburdened by feelings, and still he had sent her back to a country that  
supposedly made her weak. It didn't make any sense.

The cell phone rang again, this time it was McGee. Ziva shut it off and removed  
the battery and chip to make it harder for him to track her down. She was not  
yet ready to go and play NCIS investigator. She didn't want to be found just  
yet. She didn't know what she still would have to offer.

Why had that new director asked her father for her return to America? Why had  
her father agreed to send her back to NCIS? If Ziva would not know her father as  
well as she did she might have considered the possibility that he had sent her  
back to Washington to keep her out of harm's way after the bomb in Morocco and  
everything else before. But Ziva knew better. She knew that to Eli David she was  
just one operative among many, maybe one he wanted to succeed more than others,  
but not one to warrant special treatment.

The bomb in Morocco… Singing at that club had been nice, and when the bomb had  
gone off, she had welcomed the oblivion, and she had been surprised that she not  
only had survived but had gotten out of it with just a few scratches and bone  
bruises. She had been surprised to survive, surprised and disappointed.  
She had wanted to die, ever since she had seen Jenny's bullet riddled, lifeless  
body. That's why she had not put up even a token of a fight when the new NCIS  
Director, Leon Vance, had sent her back to Mossad, back to her father, back to  
be what she had been raised to be, a spy and an assassin.

Jenny had been the only one able to see more in her. Jenny had been the only one  
to see her as a human being with feelings and scrupules – and without her there  
really was no reason to hold onto that. She had not fought the reassignment  
because she had not cared anymore.

And of course, her father had welcomed her with open arms, which with Mossad  
Director David meant that he offered her her choice of assignments. And her  
first choice had been a rescue mission. It had to be executed quickly and  
swiftly. It had a high potential of going wrong, and the person sent to detonate  
the bombs that would destroy the Hamas outpost in Palestine ran the biggest  
risk. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and Director David had been  
ecstatic to have one up on the Germans and Americans whose agents had been the  
ones having to be freed. The follow-up information had given them the locations  
of an Al-Qaida training camp.

That had been her next assignment. Ziva had infiltrated it to gain access to  
their computer files. The computer was located in the only air-conditioned  
building in the compound. It had held a real treasure trove of information.  
Unfortunately one of the explosives she had set to cover her retreat had been  
discovered and they caught her when she had just been leaving the computer  
building. Before they could disarm her completely she blew up the building. She  
had been their prisoner for two days, two days during which she had done her  
best to provoke them to kill her, two days during which she had hoped every hit  
with a fist, every kick with a steel enhanced boot, every slap with the barrel  
of gun would be the one sending her into eternal oblivion, but hat kick or slap had  
never come. Instead she had heard her people attacking the compound, distracting  
the two men who had been beating up on her. She had acted on instinct and got  
her hands on the boot knife of one of her captors. She had cut the throat of one  
man and stabbed the other in the heart. She had relied on her training and it  
had worked out.

Her father had visited her in the hospital where she had been treated for two  
broken ribs, a concussion and too many bruises to count. He had been proud of  
her and she had received a citation for bravery, and three weeks of downtime.  
She had been interested in none, not her father's pride, not the downtime. She  
had been back on her next dangerous assignment less than ten days later.  
This time she had not been allowed to choose for herself. Her father had sent  
her to a supposedly simple surveillance mission which had turned out not to be  
that simple and after that he had simply accepted her choices. Her talents and  
her newfound recklessness got the missions done and brought her people home  
alive though one of them had landed her in the hospital for two weeks, two weeks  
during which she had not been able to charm her way to an early release thanks  
to Director David's explicit orders.

Four months of extremely high-risk missions; and she still was alive – and now  
she was even back in Washington, back in the United States where she had lost  
everything, her hope, her heart, her life with Jenny's death.

-x-x-x-

Ziva looked at Jenny's gravestone, simple and elegant, just as she had been, but  
it said nothing about the woman, the agent, the lover, the friend. Ziva's eyes  
were burning but she did not deserve to cry.

If not for her Jenny would still be alive. She stretched her hand out, but she  
didn't dare to touch the stone or retrace the letters. She didn't deserve to  
touch it. She had failed in her duty and it had gotten Jenny killed.

Jenny would hate it if she ever caught her wallowing in such self-pity. She  
would laugh at her and tell her not to take herself too seriously. She would  
tell her that what happened to her had not been her fault and that she had died  
the way she had lived. Ziva had told herself the same thing dozens of times over  
the last four months. She knew Jenny would be angry at her and read her the riot  
act. Jenny would have made her bend over and given her a sound spanking or a  
dozen to chase those thoughts away – and then she would have made love to her.  
Now, all alone Ziva just couldn't help it.

Deep down she knew that Jenny could still be alive if she had done what she had  
been trained to do, if she had been more Mossad than NCIS. Her father had been  
right to think that America had made her weak. She could not afford to be weak.  
It would only get more people killed. She had to be strong, strong enough to  
protect the people Jenny had cared for. It was the least she could do to honor  
Jenny's memory. She owed it to her.

Ziva once again looked at the headstone. The setting sun reflected off the  
golden letters as if to encourage her, as if to tell her that she had now found  
something to live for. Ziva took a deep breath and tried to find the strength to  
do just that. A necessary first step would be to get up, leave the cemetery and  
call Gibbs, but she couldn't convince her body to move.

-x-x-x-

Ziva heard the crunching of gravel under high heeled boots coming steadily  
closer. She would have recognized the specific cadence of those steps  
everywhere. She knew she should at least stand up to greet her friend, but she  
didn't. She stayed where she was, kneeling in the grass in front of Jenny's  
grave.

The footsteps had stopped and Ziva stiffened when she felt Abby kneel down right  
behind her. Her muscles were as taught as a drawn bowstring when Abby's long  
arms sneaked around her. And suddenly she wanted to run, hide from the obvious  
affection the touch conveyed, hide from the fact that she allowed the touch and  
that despite everything it made her feel better, hide from the admission that she did  
not deserve to feel better.

"Did you have a good chat with Jenny?" Abby asked.

"Chat?"

"Yes, you know talk about what's going on and what's going wrong, about new and  
old cases, mutual friends, just stuff. Jenny is a good listener. She never minds  
if I start to ramble or talk too fast or if I tell her a hundred times how much  
I miss Team Gibbs, the real Team Gibbs, not the half-cent Xerox that replaced  
you all. You know, one night I even saw Gibbs sitting here, he didn't talk, it  
would be completely so not Gibbs if he had. Gibbs does not do the talk thing but  
he had brought a bottle and they shared a glass or two, I guess. So, Zee, I know  
you gave up your apartment. Where are you staying?"

Ziva turned to the side. She saw the checkered mini-skirt and a white top and  
the collar with the blunted spikes but she didn't look up to Abby's face.  
"Jenny called me Zee."

"I can stop saying it if it hurts too much, Ziva. I just like the way it sounds,  
like a cool breeze on a summer's day. So, where are you staying?"

"Mossad rented a hotel room until I have time to look for something else. It's  
near the Navy Yard."

"That will not do. It's decided, you're coming home with me. There's a guest  
room with a real bed just waiting for you. You must be tired after the long  
flight. Let's go and pick up your luggage and pick up some take-away and relax."  
Abby let go of Ziva's torso and pulled away. She got to her feet and offered  
Ziva a hand. Ziva accepted the help. She was a bit stiff from kneeling for so  
long and still felt the bruises from the explosion in Morocco. Abby not only  
pulled her to her feet but also in a bear hug, irritating her sore ribs. She  
kissed her on the cheek and saw Ziva flinch almost imperceptively.

Abby immediately let go of her, "I'm such an idiot. You were blown up not two  
days ago, just kawoom, and you were all bloody on the news and then I go and  
make it worse. I'm so sorry, Zee. Oh, God, I did it again, I called you Zee. I  
didn't think."

Ziva put her index finger on Abby's lips, "I am fine, Abby. I was not blown up.  
I was just close to an explosion, yes? I am fine, I promise."

To give her words more credibility Ziva hugged Abby back and to her surprise she  
found that she enjoyed it, "I like the way it sounds when you call me Zee,  
Abigail," she said with a teasing smile.

"Good. I like saying it, but I promise I will not wear it out. It's for special  
occasions. Now, let's find your room and check you out."

"We can do that by phone. My luggage is in a locker at the main entrance of the  
cemetery. I had a cab bring me here directly from the airport," Ziva said  
softly.

Abby squeezed her hand in sympathy and didn't let go until they had reached her  
red hearse, and since Ziva was not in the habit of lying to herself she  
admitted that her hand in Abby's hand felt really good. It was a good fit.

-x-x-x-

The drive to Abby's apartment was mostly silent except for a stop at Ziva's  
favourite Chinese place for some take-out. Ziva's initial protests that she was  
not hungry had melted away when Abby simply put some chop-sticks and a container  
with chicken Gun-Bao in front of her with a tiny pout Ziva despite herself found  
absolutely adorable and irresistible.

During dinner, and later when they had a glass of wine on the couch the  
forensics specialist filled her in on everything that had happened in her  
absence. Ziva had already read about Director Vance's efforts to find the  
traitor in his office but that had not been more than the bare facts. Abby's  
point of view gave life to the things she had read on the flight. Ziva even  
laughed a couple of times when Abby mimicked the quirks and idiosyncratic habits  
of everyone, even Gibbs or when she mentioned Palmer's sexcapades with Agent  
Lee. It also strangely augmented the gut feeling she had had from the start that  
something about the whole thing just did not ring true.

They talked long into the night, that is, Abby talked. She seemed to sense that  
Ziva was not ready to speak about her time away, as Abby called it. She even  
only mentioned it once, to scold her that she had not written often enough. When  
Ziva finally retired to the guest room, she not only fell asleep almost  
immediately, she also did not dread going to sleep.

Despite having crossed quite a few time zones on her journey Ziva woke at her  
usual time, an hour before sunrise. Usually she couldn't leave the bed fast  
enough to escape the memories of her nightmares and threw herself into a long  
run and a vigorous work-out. This morning was different.

-x-x-x-

This morning she was not alone in bed. Abby was snuggled behind her and held her  
in her arms. No one but Jenny and her mother had ever held her this way. Abby's  
touch was just unfamiliar enough to let Ziva want more and she instinctively  
snuggled a bit deeper into the comforting embrace while a tiny voice inside told  
her that she should get out of bed and run as far away as she could and that she  
didn't deserve that kind of intimacy. She didn't deserve to feel so at home in  
Abby's arms.

"At home", "home" – it sounded good, but could Washington and NCIS really once  
again become a home to her?

Those last four months, all she had really wanted was to die. She had wanted her  
life to end, a life in which there was no joy left, a life in which she had  
failed the woman she loved, a life without her best friend and lover.

Ziva was not naïve. She knew that life everywhere was dangerous, crossing the  
street could be dangerous. She knew that she couldn't possibly protect her whole  
team, her friends at all time. Ziva mentally chuckled, Gibbs would head-slap her  
if he were able to hear her thoughts and Jenny would tell her that she should  
just get over herself and that despite her considerable skills she was still  
just human and not some superhero with high tech toys protecting Gotham City.  
Jenny would also tell her that as long as she did her job as an NCIS  
investigator to the best of her abilities she had nothing to worry about.  
Believing those voices in her head, however, was easier said than done… Abby  
stirred behind her, probably prompted by the change in Ziva's breathing rhythm.  
She heard Abby whisper, "Dear God, please, let her still be asleep."

Abby began to slowly pull her arm away but Ziva stopped her by putting one hand  
on top of Abby's, "It's alright, Abby. It feels good to be held, yes."

Abby stopped her movements but her words made it clear that she was still  
nervous, "I didn't plan on falling asleep. I wanted just to hold you until you  
had calmed down. You cried out for Jenny and I couldn't get you to wake up and I  
couldn't just stand there and let you suffer and then I pulled you in my arms  
and I didn't want to stay…"

Ziva turned around and put a finger on Abby's lips. She smiled at her and said,  
"Thank you, Abigail. It means a lot to me that you care. We still have three  
hours before we have to be at the Navy Yard. That's enough time to take a long  
nap. Close your beautiful eyes again and let me watch over you. I'm sorry that I  
woke you up last night."

Abby smiled at the offer, but she still felt that she should protest, a protest  
Ziva stopped by once again putting her finger over the Goth's lips.  
"It's fine, Abigail. Rest!"

"Who am I to contradict Zee with the nifty Ninja skills," Abby said and closed  
her eyes.

Her arms were still draped around Ziva's body. Abby's breathing quickly evened  
out, her features relaxed and Ziva had the chance to study her openly. She had  
to suppress the urge to run her fingers through Abby's dark hair or let her hand  
rest on Abby's cheek.

Abby was simply adorable with her grandmother nightgown and without make-up. In  
Ziva's eyes it made her even more beautiful. Ziva mentally shock her head at  
herself and her on-going crush on one Abigail Sciuto, forensics specialist  
extraordinaire. Jenny had teased her about it often enough. She had even  
encouraged her to ask Abby out on a date.

Jealousy had never had any place in Ziva's relationship with Jenny and they  
never had been exclusive. Loving Jenny had been so easy. It had come naturally  
to her, as easy and natural as breathing. Her feelings for Abby had never been  
as easy to define. Yes, she was sexually attracted to Abby, who wouldn't. Abby  
was a beautiful woman, she was funny, almost frighteningly intelligent,  
headstrong; everyone with half a brain couldn't help being attracted to the  
enticing package, but for Ziva it was more than that.

She genuinely liked Abby. She had from the beginning though then it had been  
rather one-sided. Not that she could not understand where Abby's hostility had  
come from. Caitlin Todd had been Abby's friend, a role she knew she never would  
be able to fill. Yes, by now Abby saw her as a friend as well, but she never  
could take Kate's place.

And just like Jenny Kate was dead because of her. She always would feel guilty  
about that, guilty that she had not stopped Ari in time, guilty that she had not  
seen her brother for what he had become before it had been too late. As his  
handler and his sister she should have known and should have acted earlier. 

She might even have been able stop Ari from gunning Kate down. 

Ziva sighed, and Abby turned in her arms and ended with her head on Ziva's  
shoulder. With the next breath she threw one of her long legs over Ziva's thighs  
and draped an arm over her stomach. Usually Ziva didn't like to be pinned down  
in any way. Even with Jenny she had sometimes fled a too tight embrace. Abby's  
unconsciously possessive gesture, however, elicited feelings of peace and  
completion.

Do I really feel complete?, Ziva asked herself, and a myriad of answers flashed  
through her mind about why she didn't deserve to feel completion or even  
contentment and why it was not fair to Abby because she simply deserved better  
than a broken ex-assassin. But there was also another voice telling her to enjoy  
the moment and the other woman's abandon and innocent beauty as long as she got  
the chance.

So, Ziva spent the time until Abby's alarm clock rang in the other room just  
looking at Abby and committing every single detail of her face to memory. She  
never before had had the chance to do that this openly and unafraid of being  
caught staring. Her only regret was that Abby's eyes were closed, those deep,  
inviting green eyes the color of the Mediterranean sea on a sunny spring day,  
those eyes sparkling with childlike glee when she had one up on the boys,  
especially on Tony, those eyes that could narrow in anger but also in confusion…  
Abby didn't even stir when her clock radio or whatever she used to wake up began  
to blare. It sounded more like a flock of panicking geese than something even  
Abby would have defined as music. Ziva couldn't help but wince. It hurt her  
sensitive ears, and she was really grateful that the closed door muffled the  
cacaphonic sound. Abby smiled and snuggled closer when it finally stopped. Abby  
licked her lips and without thinking about it Ziva gave her a chaste kiss.  
Abby's lips were so soft and the fresh moisture applied by her tongue tasted  
better than the finest wine. The noise from the other room resumed when she was  
only a quarter inch away from stealing a second kiss. This time was considerably  
louder and even more annoying. Ziva cursed internally, convinced that human ears  
had not been built to withstand such an infernal sound.

She sighed and slowly extricated herself from Abby's arms. Ziva took a quick  
shower and put on some strong coffee, having brought her own special blend with  
her. The scent of the fresh brew wafting through the apartment brought Abby soon  
to the kitchen, still half asleep. She blinked and made a beeline for the mug  
with the skull ornaments Ziva had just put on the counter for her. Abby picked  
it up with both hands, brought it up to her nose and inhaled. A smile appeared  
on her face and Ziva heard a soft sound, somewhere between a relieved sigh and a  
moan.

"Good morning, Abigail," Ziva said when Abby finally was awake enough to look  
over the rim of the cup.

The expression on Abby's face was at the same time confused and grateful. Ziva  
had to grab the rim of the counter top to keep herself from kissing her soundly.  
Abby looked so utterly adorable but Ziva didn't want to scare her away by acting  
too impulsively. When Abby had finished the content of the oversized mug she  
looked a hundred percent more awake and returned Ziva'sgreeting.  
"Good morning, Ziva. Thank you. Is there more?"

Ziva refilled the mug silently and filed away the fact that Abby was evidently  
not a morning person. It was such a marked contrast to her usual bubbly, chatty  
self, Ziva found it charming and enticingly cute.

The search for the coffee maker earlier had informed Ziva that the beautiful  
Goth seemed not to be much of a cook. The cupboards, the small pantry and the  
fridge had been completely bare of food, except for a slice of leftover pizza  
with mould on it.

Ziva waited until Abby had drained the cup and said, "I will go to the bakery at  
the corner we passed yesterday while you take a shower, yes."

"You don't have to, Ziva. We can grab something on the way," Abby answered.

"It is not a problem. I already showered. It will pass the time."

"Thank you, Zee."

-x-x-x-

Abby and Ziva quickly established a routine. They went to bed in separate rooms,  
one to sleep in a coffin, the other to sleep in a bed, and woke up snuggled in  
each others arms in the guest room. After the second night Ziva had stopped to  
apologise for her nightmares and Abby had stopped to try to return to her own  
room.

Ziva always woke first and put a pillow in Abby's arms when she got up. She went  
for her morning run, showered and prepared coffee and breakfast. Abby drove them  
to the Navy Yard and when work allowed it Ziva cooked for them. They talked a  
lot and laughed a lot. Abby took cooking and self-defence lessons from Ziva.  
Ziva learned to appreciate Abby's eclectic taste in music and movies. They began  
to touch each other more than strictly necessary without being aware of it. In  
other words, they were steadily growing closer.

Ziva regularly studied the real estate adds in the newspaper and on the internet  
but the few apartments she found worth checking out did not meet her criteria  
for one reason or the other when she went for a viewing with Abby.

-x-x-x-

About three weeks after Ziva's return, after a frustrating case of criminal  
negligence that had led to the death of two sailors Abby suggested a girl's  
night out. Ziva eagerly agreed but laughingly said that Abby would have to dress  
her up for her not to stick out like a sore finger. The twinkle in her eyes told  
Abby that she had slipped on purpose. So, she only grinned and pulled Ziva  
enthusiastically in her room to have a look a Ziva's wardrobe.

When Ziva had left for Israel she had not bothered to pack up her apartment. The  
Israeli embassy had organized the storage of her things and she had had her clothes sent  
to Abby's apartment only a few days before.

Abby's serious expression when she studied the contents of Ziva's closet was so  
sweet Ziva wanted to pull her close and kiss her. Focused on Abby's face Ziva  
instinctively jumped back when Abby suddenly squealed and took a dark red  
evening gown out, similar to the one she had worn in Morocco.

"This will be appropriated for a Goth club?" Ziva asked sceptically.

"No, silly, but now that I know that you have something like this I'll find an  
opportunity for you to wear it for me. It will be a challenge. No, for tonight I  
have something with a bit more fabric in mind. Leather pants would be good."  
"I can do leather pants," Ziva pulled a pair of black leather slacks out of her  
dresser. Abby combined them with a black, formfitting T-shirt embroidered with  
Celtic knots and combat boots.

"I'll get some accessories while you get dressed, then I'll do your make-up".  
A couple of minutes later Abby was back with a wooden box she almost dropped  
when she saw Ziva. The pants were riding low on her hips and there was just a  
hint of tanned skin between T-shirt and leather visible. Her hair was falling  
down her back and her eyes were sparkling at Abby's stunned expression.  
"Wow! You're beautiful, Zee. Not that you're not always beautiful. You are but…  
wow!"

"Thank you, Abby. You wanted to add some accessories, yes?"

Abby mutely nodded and took a two inch broad black leather belt with a skull  
shaped buckle from the box. Ten minutes later Abby had applied understated  
make-up that accentuated Ziva's eyes and cheek bones. She had left the box open  
when she returned to her room to get ready herself. Ziva put her dress back and  
rearranged a stack of T-shirts. She combed her hair until it shone and then  
there was nothing to do but to wait for Abby.

She walked aimlessly around and her gaze fell on the contents of the box. Next  
to the indentations reserved for the belt was another one and a half inch wide  
leather strip adorned with smaller versions of the skull on the belt. Ziva took  
it out and studied the remarkable detail of the silver metal. Tiny differences  
between the seven skulls told her that they probably had been made by hand, a  
closer inspection told her that the metal was pure sterling silver.

Ziva curiously studied its ends. She saw a closing mechanism and pressed down on  
one end. It was some kind of snap lock. She closed it gently and looked intently  
at the almost indiscernible seam and the tiny hole apparently meant for a key.  
Ziva walked over to her dresser and retrieved a set of lock-picks. She chose one  
of the smallest and the snap lock opened in seconds.

Unconsciously fascinated she repeated the process twice and standing in front of  
the mirror Ziva held the collar against her throat. It gave her whole appearance  
an added quality that not only looked good, it also felt right as if it were  
meant to be.

Ziva almost dropped the collar when she heard Abby's voice coming from behind  
her, "You are very beautiful, Ziva David. Let me fasten it for you."

Ziva turned around to look at Abby, surprised that she had not heard or sensed  
her coming. Her eyes widened and she had to swallow at the sight of Abby's black  
and dark purple outfit. Her plateau boots were higher than usual and her make-up  
more elaborate.

Still holding he collar Ziva just stared at her. Her hands slowly sank down and  
finally she said, "You are perfection, Abigail."

Abby smiled at her, that full blown smile she reserved for special occasions,  
that smile that was bright enough to power half of the DC area for a year, the  
smile that had Ziva's heart skip a beat the first time she had seen it, then  
directed at Gibbs, the smile that let her forget to breathe the first time it  
had been directed at her.

"Perfection!"

"You are the exotic beauty here, Zee. I can guarantee that you will turn heads  
tonight. Come, turn around. Let's see if it fits. It would complement your  
outfit."

Abby voice was slightly trembling as she said that but Ziva didn't dare to ask  
why. Instead she handed over the collar, pulled her hair out of the way and  
turned around. She felt Abby only inches behind her, almost close enough for  
their bodies to touch. She smelled Abby's shampoo and the subtle scent that  
could not be attributed to any hygiene products or perfume but was solely and uniquely  
Abby, the scent she longed to explore, the scent that drove her to take cold  
showers even after her exhausting morning run.

The collar touched her skin and for a moment her training screamed at her to run  
as fast and as far as she could. A collar was a sign of subservience, of  
imprisonment, of enslavement. Ziva was ready to bolt, but Abby's fingertips  
brushed over her skin, a probably unconscious touch that let Ziva's heart beat  
faster, not in fear, in anticipation. The leather pressed against her larynx.  
The heat of Abby's hand slipped over her shoulder and her heartbeat was  
thundering in her ears. Time seemed to stand still.

Abby let the collar click shut, the slight pressure at her throat disappeared.  
Abby's hands were resting on her shoulders. They grounded her, calmed her and  
she became aware that her eyes were closed. She opened them and looked at the  
image of herself and Abby in the mirror. Abby towered over her, the skulls  
gleamed in the light of the vanity. Ziva put her right hand over Abby's, a sense  
of calm and peace pervaded her whole being. It made her feel safe, as safe as  
she once had been in Jenny's arms.

Before they left the apartment Abby triggered a hidden compartment at the front  
of the box that had held the belt and the collar and pulled out a key and a  
keychain with tiny skulls on it. She gave it to Ziva, "Here, Ziva, just in case  
it gets too much."

-x-x-x-

Abby dragged Ziva to the dance floor of the downtown club right after the  
doorman had waved them in ahead of a long line of party-goers who had stopped  
their protests after one glare from Ziva. The former assassin also glared at  
everyone on the dance floor that got too close to Abby.

At first Ziva had had no idea how to move but she quickly adapted to the long  
periods that invited smoothly swaying and the rapid bass-heavy beat that had the  
whole room stomping and jumping. Ziva quickly found that as far as conditioning  
went it was as effective as a work-out at the gym with the added bonus that here  
she got to see Abby losing herself in the music. When after about half an hour  
the first slow song came on they retired to the bar and had a bottled drink.  
After three rounds of dancing Abby excused herself to the bathroom while Ziva  
stayed at the bar. Only moments after Abby had left Ziva's sight Ziva found  
herself under observation by a tall muscular woman at the other end. She decided  
to ignore her while her thoughts went back to that last dance they had. It had  
been relatively fast paced and Abby had first pulled her close and then whirled  
her around a bit and they had ended with Abby's front pressed against Ziva's  
back, their fingers intertwined, swaying in rhythm. She had been tingling all  
over and still wanted nothing more than to pull Abby in a passionate kiss.  
Ziva sighed. There was no reason to believe that Abby shared her desire, her  
longing.

She looked up when the bartender put some sort of fruity cocktail in front of  
her, something she would not have chosen for herself in a million years.  
"With compliments from Lady Ariel," he said.

"I do not want it. Tell her, thank you, but no," Ziva answered.

"She will not take that well."

"That is not my problem. Remove the drink, yes," Ziva let a bit of her temper  
show and the man hurried to the other end of his domain, drink in hand.  
Ziva went back to her musings though she now had her senses on alert. She  
tracked the muscular woman's movements in the mirror behind the bar when she  
talked to two other persons, a man and another woman. All three soon came  
directly towards her. They were closing in on her but she did not move and tried  
to ignore them.

Abby had told her earlier that this was her favorite club due to the good music  
and the easy-going, everything goes atmosphere. Ziva didn't want to risk getting  
thrown out for starting a bar fight. So, she didn't react when the woman  
addressed her.

"It's not polite to refuse a drink, and no one is impolite to Lady Ariel."  
Ziva still didn't move or say anything.

"Turn around and look at me when I talk to you, little bitch. Lady Ariel demands  
respect."

The woman's voice was obviously meant to sound intimidatinting and full of  
authority but Ziva was far from impressed. She knew that it would not take her  
more than twenty seconds to take all three of them down.

A meaty hand grabbed her shoulder and she allowed herself to be turned around.  
The man was about a head taller and three times as heavy as Ziva, but most of  
his mass was fat instead of muscles.

"Lady Ariel is to be obeyed," he said in a voice that sounded more like thunder  
than like actual words, attracting the attention of quite a few by-standers.  
Ziva calmly looked at the so-called Lady Ariel. She just looked at her and let a  
bit of the danger show, more than with the barkeeper but not enough to give her  
more than a hint of the true extent of her abilities. The woman did not seem to  
get the message.

"Show some respect, bitch, or Lady Ariel will teach you that lesson," she said.  
From the moment the man had turned her around Ziva had kept part of her  
attention on the bartender who currently was on the phone and on Abby who was  
pushing her way through the onlookers.

She must have heard at least some part of the conversation because she said,  
"Recent psychological studies prove that people who talk about themselves in the  
third person suffer from a personality deficiency disorder."

"Shut up, you cunt," the other woman said and tried to backhand Abby.  
Ziva's hand shot up and redirected her hand which then slapped hard against Lady  
Ariel's cheek, hard enough to make her lose her balance for a moment. Ziva  
pulled Abby behind her and assumed a defensive stance.

Ariel boxed the man on the shoulder, "Do something, you moron! Don't just stand  
there and let your Mistress get insulted."

In the time it took the man to ball his fists his female counterpart had drawn a  
knife, a switch blade, from behind her back. Ziva got into the woman's personal  
space and grabbed her wrist. She triggered a pressure point, the knife fell to  
the floor. Ziva followed up with an elbow to the woman's solar plexus that made  
her double over and finished her off with a precise karate chop to the neck,  
just in time to keep the man from taking hold of Abby' by kicking out and making  
him fall over the woman. Lady Ariel bent down to pick up the knife. Ziva was faster  
and kicked it back towards the foot of the bar.

"Stand down!" She said menacingly.

Ariel did not listen. She rushed forward in an effort to pull Ziva to the floor  
but collided with the Mossad agent's knee. Ziva took care to only hit her  
sternum and not the throat or chin. She had no intention to kill her. Ariel  
landed hard on her behind.

Ziva turned half around to make sure that Abby had not been harmed but kept the  
trio in her peripheral sight, "Are you alright, Abigail?"

"I'm fine, Zee. What did they want? I've never seen people this rude in here.  
They didn't harm you, right? I mean of course they didn't. You're the Spy Queen.  
They would not…"

Ziva put a finger on Abby's lips and smiled at her, "I am fine , Abby. It's not  
your fault that those people are rude… and stupid:"

With the last word she whirled around and decked the man who had gotten back on  
his feet with a solid right hook that sent him back down to the floor and into  
oblivion.

Ziva let her eyes roam over the half circle of onlookers as if to dare them to  
try anything. Her senses were on full alert and she snapped into pre-attack mode  
when Ariel started to get up again. Before the woman had reached hip-level the  
crowd parted as if on auto-pilot and gave way to a dark haired woman followed by  
two men who seemed to be easily twice the size of her unconscious attacker.  
"That's quite enough of that," the woman said quietly and Ariel froze in  
mid-movement.

The woman exuded authority and danger; and Ziva's defences went to high alert.  
She gauged her chances to take out the men and was confident that she could do  
it without exposing Abby, the woman was a different question, however.

Abby squeezed her shoulder and whispered, "She's a friend, Ziva," and pushed  
past her right into the woman's arms.

"Helen, I missed you. I didn't expect you to be here tonight."

"Hello, Abigail. Please introduce me to your friend."

The way the woman said Abby's name was so intimate it sent a bolt of pain  
through Ziva's chest, but years of working undercover allowed her to keep it  
from showing.

"Of course, Helen, where are my manners? Helen, this is my friend Ziva. Ziva,  
this is Helen, she owns the club. She's supposed to be on the west coast for at  
least another month or two. Had I known that she's in town I would have  
introduced you right away. She's one of my oldest friends. She taught me  
everything I know," Abby said with a genuine smile that made the pain settle in  
a knot in Ziva's belly.

"She's exaggerating, of course. Abby is brilliant in her own right. It's nice to  
make your acquaintance, Ziva," they exchanged a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you too," Ziva answered.

"I apologise for the rudeness of my guests, Ziva. Do you want to press charges  
for assault?"

"Charges? No, I do not want to spend the rest of the night at a police station,  
besides there was no harm done. I made sure not to do any damage to them."

"Good, that allows me to deal with them my way. El, Jo, escort those two out and  
make sure that every bouncer knows that they are not welcome on my property."

Ariel had gotten back on her feet, "I had every right to claim her. Stick-girl  
there should take better care of her property, instead of leaving her unattended  
to and unsecured."

Abby had to hold Ziva back at the insult and as usual Abby's touch instantly  
calmed her down.

"It's my right. I'm Lady Ariel."

There was no one to hold Helen back. She grabbed Ariel by the front of her shirt  
and pulled her close until their noses were less than half a foot apart. Helen's  
voice was calm and controlled but the hint of a British accent Ziva had thought  
to detect earlier was now slightly more pronounced.

"You are not a lady, Ariel Little. You're a petty excuse for a sentient being.  
Everyone in this city knows that's its better not to cross me, and yet here you  
are trying to bully my people. 'The Garbo' is not a life style club and wearing  
a collar does not mean that one is submissive. Don't come back here!"

Helen abruptly let go of the stunned woman, "Gentlemen, if you would do your  
duty now."

Ariel and the man were marched off, that left only the second woman, the woman  
who had wielded the knife.

"Get up, Georgia, and look at me," Helen ordered. The look on Georgia's face was  
somewhere between a defiant child and a prisoner about to face a firing squad.  
"You should know better than to hang out with the likes of her. I have trained  
you better."

Helen bent down and picked up the knife, "I gave you the knife so that you can  
protect yourself, Georgia, and to help you to focus. It's not meant to be waved  
in the face of someone with whom you should have no quarrel. From what I have  
seen of Ziva's reaction she could have easily killed you with your own bloody  
blade. Did you forget everything I taught you?"

"No, Helen, I'm sorry." The younger woman looked down on her feet.

"Of all the people you could have chosen as companions, why that incompetent?  
The city is full of people better suited to your needs. And with her it would  
only have been a question of time before she took advantage of you and your  
talents."

Georgia kept staring on the floor, "I'm sorry, Helen. Please punish me, beat the  
wickedness out of me."

Helen cupped Georgia's chin and made her look up, "You know that's not my style.  
Is this why you went to her? To be punished for imaginary failings?"

"You left, and thought that I was prepared but I wasn't. I felt empty and she  
was your polar opposite. Please, give me another chance. Let me make it up to  
you and those I hurt while I was with her," Georgia's voice was soft, tears were  
running down her cheek but she held visual contact with Helen.

"Are you really willing to make amends to those you have faulted while you were  
under her command?"

"Yes Helen."

Helen's hand was still resting on Georgia's cheek, comforting, protecting, and  
in a sudden flash she saw herself with Jenny performing the same gesture. This  
time her training did not keep her eyes from widening at the insight. Ziva got  
herself quickly back under control and relegated those thoughts to the back of  
her mind to be taken out and examined later.

"Go home, Georgia. I want you to write down everything you did since we saw each  
other last. El will make sure that you arrive safely. When you're done come back  
here and you'll get another chance."

"Yes, Helen, thank you."

Helen turned her attention back to Abby and Ziva, "I apologise for the  
interruption. Would you allow me to invite you to my booth? It's quieter there  
and we can catch up, respectively get to know each other."

Abby seemed thrilled at the prospect, so, Ziva just nodded her agreement though  
it aggravated the painful knot in her stomach. She let Abby and Helen do most of  
the talking while she used everything she had ever learned about body language  
and facial expressions to analyze the nature of their relationship.

Abby was always touching and hugging people, but except for the occasional touch  
on the arm to make a point she was uncharacteristically restrained in that  
regard. Helen seemed open and relaxed but Ziva also saw that the woman used a  
fair amount of her attention to study her.

-x-x-x-

Two hours and two drinks later they called it a night and Helen escorted them to  
the cab. Helen hugged Abby who got in first and then pulled Ziva in a quick  
embrace. She whispered something in her ear, turned on her heels and left a  
completely stunned Ziva standing at the open cab door. Abby had to tug on her  
jacket to snap her out of it. Ziva quickly gave the driver Abby's address but  
she was still not sure that she had heard right .  
Abby squeezed her hand, "Are you alright, Zee?"   
Ziva turned her head and looked at Abby but Abby was not sure if she was really  
seeing her, "What's wrong, Zee? Did Helen do or say something strange?"   
"She said something in Jiddish, something she has no way of knowing. I have not  
heard Jiddish since my grandmother died."   
"Helen has many skills, Ziva, among them the ability to see things in people  
they often do not see in themselves. She's a good friend to have. You'll see.  
Helen likes you. She usually does not hug after the first meeting. She's  
old-fashioned that way. So, what did she say that spooked you? Not that anything  
can spook the Spy Queen, I know, but you…"   
Ziva stopped Abby's word flow with a kiss, a hot, passionate, demanding kiss  
that turned accepting and welcoming the moment Abby started to kiss her back.  
When they had to come up for air Ziva settled back in the seat but held Abby's  
hand for the rest of the trip.   
Back in the apartment Abby took the initiative and kissed Ziva as soon as the  
door was closed. The kiss took Ziva's breath away. It was different than any  
kiss she had ever experienced before. The kiss claimed her, entirely and  
completely, and she surrendered. It felt right.  
When they finally had once again to separate to breathe Abby took two steps  
back, "That must have been quite something, what Helen said to you."  
"She said that I had nothing to fear and that you want me as much as I want you.  
Was she right?"  
"Helen rarely is wrong. I don't know exactly when it happened but I fell in love  
with you. It hurt so much when you were gone and I didn't know if you're really  
alright. Your emails, they were so carefully worded, so empty of everything I  
love about you. It hurt to read them and still I read them again and again  
because they were all I had telling me that you're still alive."  
Ziva closed the distance between them and pulled Abby down for another kiss, a  
kiss that was soft and reassuring, "I am alive, Abigail. I fell in love with you  
a long time ago. You do not know how much I wanted to kill that Mawher's guy,  
just because he scared and threatened you, yes."  
"Oh Zee, you're so sweet. I could ravish you right here and now but I want more  
than a one-night-stand with hot monkey sex. I want you."  
"I want you as well, Abigail, more than I know how to say. I want to kiss and  
worship every square centimetre of your skin but it's late and tonight I just  
want to hold you in my arms, yes."  
Abby commented the simple wish with a tender kiss and said, "Then lets get ready  
for bed."

-x-x-x-

When Abby came into Ziva's room after she had changed into her night clothes  
Ziva was sitting in front of the small vanity and stared at her reflection. She  
was wearing her usual night attire of shorts and T-shirt and she still was  
wearing the collar.   
Abby stepped behind her and put her hands on her shoulders. The picture they  
made in the mirror, it looked so right, so perfect, Ziva didn't want the moment  
to end, but Abby stretched out her hand and Ziva gave her the key. She had  
braided her hair as she often did at night to keep it from getting too tangled  
up but she still pulled it aside to allow Abby easier access.   
Ziva closed her eyes and felt the collar being removed. She heard Abby put it  
back in its resting place in the box next to the belt. The side of Abby's hand  
brushed her neck and Ziva smelled Abby, that special Abby-smell she had come to  
crave.   
"Come to bed, Zee. You have a promise to keep."   
Ziva reopened her eyes, her gaze was irresistibly drawn to her now bare throat.  
She reached up and touched her skin where the collar had been. It felt like a  
loss, like walking around unarmed.   
Ziva slipped under the covers and closed her arms around Abby, and the feeling  
of safety the collar had given her was back, safety and comfort and utter  
rightness. Her training told her to question those feelings but there suddenly  
seemed to be endless possibilities, a real chance at a new life, a life with a  
woman she knew she loved though she did not yet have the courage to say those  
three words.   
Ziva wished with all her heart that Jenny would be here to talk it through with  
her and specially to talk her out of the feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness  
that were the flip side of her new-found hope. Living with Abby had bit by bit  
given her back her will to live, her joy in life, something her friends and  
family in Israel had not been able to do despite their best efforts.   
She suppressed a snort when that thought brought back the memory of Michael's  
'sex is the cure-all, mend-all' philosophy and how that had landed him in the  
hospital with a broken jaw because he had tried to bring his point across a bit  
too forcefully and she had lashed out.   
A simple innocent touch from Abby, however, was enough to let her heart beat  
faster and let her crave more contact. Yes, she wanted to live and be happy and  
she wanted to love and make Abby happy, but was that really fair to Abby? Abby  
deserved better than her, better than a killer, a weapon in someone's arsenal or  
as her father loved to put it, 'the sharp end of the spear'. Abby deserved  
better and a big part of Ziva's mind urged her to get up and run before she  
tainted Abby's innocence with who and what she really was.   
Ziva felt her heart start beating faster. Abby turned in her arms. Her head came  
to rest on Ziva's shoulder, one of her leg was possessively stretched over  
Ziva's and the corresponding arm rested on Ziva's stomach. She was pinned down  
and her heartbeat returned to normal. She felt herself relax and Abby snuggled  
even closer, claiming her body as she had earlier claimed her lips and mouth and  
tongue. And despite all of her misgivings Ziva wanted to be claimed. It felt  
right, just like the collar had felt right around her neck.   
Ziva closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of Abby's shampoo and the underlying  
essence that was just Abby. It made her relax further and the storm of  
conflicting thoughts and emotions in her head slowly abated.   
Abby's hand wandered from Ziva's stomach upwards until it cupped her breast.  
Even through the fabric of her shirt the touch let goosebumps erupt on her skin  
and made her nipples stand at attention. Abby's breathing rhythm was still  
indicative of sleep and the unconscious possessiveness of the gesture increased  
the Ziva's feeling of rightness and safety tenfold.   
Helen's parting words came back to her, words she had not yet shared with Abby,  
"Trust her, Abigail is strong, strong enough to give you what you need and  
strong enough to see your soul, its light and its darkness."   
Ziva closed her eyes and once again focused on Abby's scent and on how Abby's  
body felt pressed against hers. If Helen was right then it was not up to her to  
decide if Abby deserved someone better, someone less damaged than her, it was  
Abby's decision, and Abby's decision alone. Ziva would simply tell and show her  
who she was and a quiet voice deep inside of her insisted that her hopes would  
not be disappointed. A warm wave swept over her at the thought and moments later  
Ziva was asleep.

-x-x-x-

The sun was already up when she reopened her eyes and it seemeds as if they had  
not moved even an inch during the night. Abby's leg was still pinning her down,  
her head was still resting on her shoulder and her hand was still cupping her  
breast, but Abby's breathing rhythm told Ziva that she was not longer sleeping.  
Ziva raised her head and bent down to kiss the top of Abby's dark hair.   
"Good morning, Abigail," she said softly.   
Abby in turn raised her head and scooted a bit upwards to allow them to make  
visual contact, "Good morning, my Zee. Did you sleep well?"   
Ziva gave her a quick peck on the lips, "Yes, Abby, I slept well. You were  
there, so the nightmares were too afraid to come. Thank you."   
Abby smiled at her, brightly, and they kissed again. Ziva didn't even consider  
fighting for dominance over the kiss as she would have with almost everyone  
else. She just enjoyed and it was heavenly, but even heavenly kisses had to end  
eventually. They still were staring in each other's eyes and Ziva could have  
spend the whole day doing nothing else. Abby had other ideas. She moved away  
from Ziva and Ziva immediately felt the loss.   
"Time to get up, my Zee. It's much later than usual but still early enough to go  
for your morning run. I'll make breakfast while you're out torturing yourself."  
"I can live from you kisses alone, Abigail," Ziva said and stretched out her  
hand to pull Abby back in her arms.   
Abby didn't take her up on the invitation and Ziva didn't insist but  
unconsciously her brown eyes took on a pleading expression and her lower lip was  
slightly pressed forward. Abby impulsively kissed the tip of her nose.  
"You're absolutely adorable when you pout, my Zee, but you know that I'm right  
about your run. The two times you didn't go because we were apartment hunting  
before work you were absolutely insufferable all day, fidgety and snippy and  
short-tempered. You even snapped at Ducky and came close to getting a head slap  
from Gibbs. Go for your run and get rid of all that energy that seems to build  
up inside of you over night. You'll get mango pancakes as a reward."  
"You do not fight fair, Miss Scuito. I love your pancakes," Ziva said and though  
her pout had intensified there now also was an amused twinkle in her eyes.  
"That's good to hear, Ziva, since it's one of the few things I can cook without  
your help. Now go. We really have to talk before we can find better ways to get  
rid of all of that excess energy."   
"Is this a promise?" Ziva asked.   
"Be a good girl and you'll find out, my Zee."

-x-x-x-

Ziva returned about one and a half hours later and was greeted by the mingling  
aromas of her favourite blend of coffee and mango pancakes with maple syrup.  
"Is there still time to take a shower, Abby?"   
"Of course, Ziva, and Zee, I put some clothes out for you but you can chose  
something else if you prefer."   
Ziva found a pair of black drawstring pants on the bed together with a cream  
coloured tank top and a black hooded cardigan of the same silk-cotton mix as the  
pants. She had bought the combination on awhim almost a year ago on a shopping  
trip with Jenny but had only worn it once so far. Aside from a pair of equally  
black socks there was no underwear.   
Ziva was already half-ways to the dresser to retrieve something when her eyes  
fell on the closed box still sitting on the vanity, the box with the belt and  
the collar. She stopped, turned around and got dressed. Ziva suddenly  
understood. Choosing these clothes for her to wear had nothing to do with an  
inexplicable urge to explore the contents of her wardrobe or even to see her  
dressed in a certain style, no choosing those clothes was an offer. It offered  
what Ziva craved, safety and control and it offered what she needed, the freedom  
to choose. On a whim Ziva put her hair up in a Grace Kelly bun, revealing her  
slender neck and entered the kitchen.   
Abby greeted her with a smile, "Hello, beautiful, you ready for breakfast?"  
Ziva wanted to answer on the same light-hearted tone but seeing Abby in a pair  
of tight hipster jeans and a bright red T-shirt that hugged her like a second  
skin robbed her almost completely of her faculty of speech. She had gotten used  
to see Abby in baggy sweats or tight leggings in the evenings but she never  
before had seen her wearing jeans – and the top, it outlined her every curve and  
made no secret of the fact the she was not wearing a bra.   
Ziva just stared until Abby walked over to her and pulled her towards the  
kitchen counter. She made her sit down, cut a bite-sized piece of pancake, put  
it on a fork and held it in front of Ziva who instinctively opened her mouth and  
chewed.   
Suddenly her senses exploded. She tasted pancake with just a hint of maple syrup  
and mango flavor. She smelled coffee and pancake and Abby, that unique flavor  
that was just Abby and though her eyes were closed she still could see the  
enticing outline of Abby's body. One of her hands was resting on Abby's thigh  
and she felt the heat radiating from her body. It was calling to her like a  
siren's song able to pass through the wax seal Odysseus had used on his men.  
Ziva chewed and swallowed and opened her mouth for more without even trying to  
feed herself. Abby indulged her and waited until she had savoured the full  
flavor of her second bite. Ziva heard Abby put the fork down but she kept her  
eyes closed. She felt Abby cup her cheek as she had cupped her breast in the  
night, protectively, possessively. She followed the slight pressure of Abby's  
hand and turned her head.   
"Open your eyes, Zee."   
Ziva looked directly into Abby's green eyes, deep and caring and loving with a  
hint of mischief.   
"Eat, my Zee. Feeding you even one bite more would wreak havoc with my control  
which by the way is slipping just from having you this close. You are very  
tempting. Eat. There is so much to tell and I don't know how you'll react and  
there… I just don't want you to hate me."   
Abby's voice held none of its usual lightness. So, Ziva impulsively kissed her  
and said with conviction, "I could never hate you, Abigail, never."   
She wanted to add that nothing Abby could have done could ever measure up to the  
things she had on her conscience. The expression in Abby's eyes, however, kept  
her from saying anything. She would not have been able to describe it in any of  
the almost ten languages at her disposal.   
"Eat, Ziva, drink your coffee and eat."   
Now Ziva saw a hint of fear in Abby's eyes and heard an undertone of trepidation  
in her voice. It was a combination that caused her an almost physical pain, and  
she wanted nothing more than to make it go away, but she felt she couldn't, not  
at the moment. It was not what Abby wanted, what she needed from her. So, she  
picked up the fork and began to methodically dig into the stack of pancakes on  
her plate. The heavenly taste put her trepidations on the backburner but she  
kept her hand protectively on Abby's thigh.

-x-x-x-

They quietly cleaned up the kitchen and after a long moment of awkward silence  
Ziva pulled Abby over to the living room. They sat on the couch, holding hands.  
Ziva sensed that Abby was about to speak first but she beat her to it.  
"Last night you said that you wanted more than a one night stand with me, and  
that's what I want as well. But first you need to know exactly what you're  
getting yourself into. You probably read everything you could find about me on  
the net or in my file, yes, but that's not enough. It does not tell you who and  
what I am. Those files give only a sanitized version of what I did. I have a lot  
of baggage, Abby. There is a lot of darkness and aggression in me and sometimes  
it's overwhelming and I take it out on others."   
Ziva felt a tightening of Abby's grip, "No, please, Abigail, let me say what has  
to be said. You need to know before you get involved with someone like me."  
The pressure on Ziva's hands lessened slightly but Ziva wanted to make sure that  
Abby would really let her say her piece. So, she just tried to convey her wishes  
with her eyes alone and after what seemed like an eternity Abby nodded slowly.  
"I was raised to be a weapon, Abby, a long range weapon that can just as  
effectively be used in close quarters. I was trained not to think for myself  
outside of the purview of the mission and not to ask too many questions. I was  
trained to put the mission before my own welfare and the welfare of others who  
got in the way. Collateral damage was something to be accepted and something a  
weapon had not to worry about as long as the mission was accomplished."  
Ziva fell silent and waited for Abby to put two and two together. Abby clenched  
her fingers almost painfully around Ziva's, "Kate! When did you learn that it  
was Ari who killed her?"   
"I did not want to believe Gibbs, not even when he told me that the rifle my  
bro… Ari had used was called a 'Kate'. I did not believe it until he admitted to  
it in Gibbs' basement, before he died."   
Ziva once again fell silent, berating herself for her slip of the tongue.  
"It's alright, Ziva, I know that Ari was your half-brother and that it was you  
who killed him, not Gibbs."   
"How? It was supposed to be a secret."   
"When you came to work with Gibbs and the others I did not want you there. I did  
not want you to take Kate's place, and so I looked for something, for anything  
to get rid of you. Right after Ari's death Gibbs gave me his report to put into  
the system, probably more to give me something to do. At the time I didn't give  
it much thought but I noticed the inconsistencies. When you joined the team I  
went and checked it out. The blood splatters were all wrong and the position of  
the body as well. I knew that there must have been another shooter up on the  
stairs, and not just any other shooter, an expert marksman or rather markswoman.  
I went to Director Shepard to warn her about you being a killer.   
"Jenny just laughed and said that NCIS would be empty if she sent everyone home  
who had killed in the line of duty home, including the director's office. I  
insisted; that's when she told me that Ari was your half-brother. She told me  
that you went against everything you had been trained to do to save Gibbs' life,  
to do the right thing. You executed a murderer and a traitor even though he was  
your brother. Jenny was right, Ziva."   
Ziva cast her eyes down. She wanted to tell Abby that it had been nothing like  
that and that it did not change who she was, a trained assassin, a killer. She  
couldn't, she just could not speak and flinched when Abby let go of her left  
hand and cupped her chin to malke her look up.   
"Jenny was right, Zee. You followed your heart and your conscience. You are not  
a heartless killer and so much more than just a weapon."   
Ziva looked at her in wonder and Abby pulled her in a quick hug to emphasize her  
words, "I would not have fallen in love with someone who is just a killer, and  
Jenny would not have loved someone who is just a killer. Jenny trusted you with  
her heart, her soul and her body, Zee, and so do I."   
"And yet I got her killed. I could just as well have pulled the trigger myself,"  
Ziva said. "I do not deserve to be loved, especially not by someone like you, by  
an innocent."   
"Oh, Zee, you got that all wrong. You didn't get Director Shepard killed. You  
and Tony tried to protect her even though she had sent you away, you just  
couldn't. It was not meant to be."   
The sadness and resignation in Ziva's eyes were almost overwhelming Abby when  
Ziva interrupted her, "If only it were that easy. I knew that something was  
wrong when she took me aside at the cemetery and told me to take care of myself  
and enjoy life. I knew, deep down I knew but when I finally listened to myself  
it was too late. I failed her and there's no way to make it up to her. No way to  
get her to forgive me as she usually did after a screw-up. If I had been only a  
few minutes earlier I might have been able to save her."   
Tears were brimming in Ziva's eyes but she angrily blinked them away.   
"Gods, Zee, do not do that to yourself. Jenny would not want you to be so hard  
on yourself. You're only human, a human with crazy Ninja skills but still human.  
Ziva, even if you and Tony had arrived right after the shooting, even if you had  
arrived before she died, you were in the middle of nowhere. You could not have  
saved her. Her wounds were too severe."   
Ziva didn't say anything but it was evident that Abby's word had fallen on deaf  
ears.   
"Ziva, please, you have to stop beating yourself up. You did everything you  
could, everything Jenny allowed you to do. She wanted you and Tony to be safe,  
Zee."   
"I could have saved her, Abby. I know I could have saved her," Ziva whispered.  
"I do not deserve to live while she is dead."   
Abby blanched at the raw pain in Ziva's eyes and the blank honesty of her words.  
Suddenly those emails completely devoid of any emotion Ziva had sent from Israel  
made horrible sense.   
"You did not want to come back to NCIS."   
Ziva nodded.   
"You didn't want to go anywhere. You wanted you get yourself killed in the line  
of duty. You wanted to commit suicide, suicide by terrorist. Damn it, Zee. What  
were you thinking?"   
Abby jumped up and started to pace but kept her gaze trained on Ziva who was  
sitting motionless and looked down on her hands.   
"Of all the stubborn, asinine things, that really beats everything for  
stupidity. How could you? You were not the only one who lost her."   
Ziva flinched at that but she didn't look up and she did not try to interrupt  
Abby. She just kept staring at her hands.   
"You can't just throw yourself on your metaphorical sword without thinking about  
those left behind. What would Gibbs have done if he had lost you for good? How  
could you even think that I would survive after having lost Kate, and Kate was  
only my friend. I was not in love with her. Damm, Ziva, say something."   
Ziva did still not react. Her shoulders were slumped but otherwise she had not  
moved. Abby rushed towards her and pulled her in a standing position. She forced  
Ziva to look at her.   
"Talk to me, Zee, please."   
"It just hurt too much. Getting killed would have made the pain go away," Ziva  
said softly. "Jenny was my… my everything."   
"She was your anchor."   
Ziva nodded.   
"Your friend."   
Ziva nodded.   
"Your mentor."   
Ziva nodded.   
"Your lover."   
Ziva's eyes once again shone with unshed tears.   
"Jenny made the pain in my heart go away when I had to do something I hated. She  
was the only one aside from my mother who really understood me. She kept my  
heart and my soul safe. Without her, life was no longer worth living."   
Abby pulled Ziva in her arms and held her as tightly as she could, "I'm here,  
Ziva. I love you and I will do everything I can to keep your soul safe. I  
promise."   
Ziva started to tremble and it took a while for Abby to become aware that Ziva  
was crying. She held her even tighter and manoeuvred them to sit back on the  
couch with Ziva now on Abby's lap. Abby rubbed soothing circles on Ziva's back  
and whispered to her that she loved her and that everything would be alright.  
She told her that there was no shame in tears and that they were not a sign of  
weakness and how proud she was that Ziva trusted her enough to let herself cry  
in her arms. She said that those tears were a gift she would always cherish, and  
on and on, until Ziva was cried out.

-x-x-x-

Abby waited for Ziva to raise her head from her chest and gave her one of those  
heart-stopping brilliant smiles when she finally did look up.   
"Come, sweet Ziva, let's get you cleaned up."   
Ziva nodded but did not move. Abby only smiled, changed her hold on Ziva and  
stood up as if she were only carrying her stuffed poop-toy Bert instead of a  
well-muscled young woman.   
"Stop, Abby, let me down. You are going to hurt yourself."   
"I'm stronger than I look, Ziva. Enjoy the ride."   
-x-x-x-   
Abby sat Ziva gently on the rim of the bathtub. She soaked a washcloth and  
carefully cleaned Ziva's face,   
"Close you eyes, Zee. Here, hold the cloth tight to your eyes. It will get the  
swelling down. I'll get us some dry clothes. I'll be right back."   
Abby changed into a form-fitting silver-metallic shirt that vaguely reminded of  
a medieval chain mail coat though the fabric was as soft as silk. Ziva turned  
her head toward the bathroom door as soon as she heard Abby come back but she  
didn't remove the washcloth.   
"Keep your eyes closed, my Zee. I don't want the light to hurt them."  
Abby removed the wet cloth and found Ziva's eyes obediently closed.  
"Let's get you changed."   
Abby removed the cardigan, pulled the tank top over Ziva's head and used a  
warmed towel to pat her chest and face dry. She dressed Ziva in a sleeveless  
white v-neck T-shirt and let her put the cardigan back on.   
"Come, I pulled the jalousies in the living room. Your eyes should be just fine  
there. Don't be alarmed. It's completely normal. Your tears are salty, they  
burn. It will go away soon."   
They returned to the living room where Abby made Ziva lie down and put her head  
in her lap, "Rest, sweet Ziva. We'll resume our talk later. And just for the  
record, nothing you said or could say will scare me away."   
Ziva wanted to answer but Abby silenced her with a finger on her lips. A few  
minutes later Ziva opened her eyes again and studied Abby calm features.  
"Abigail, I no longer think that life is not worth living, not when I'm with  
you."   
Abby bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, "That's a good start, my  
Zee, and we will work on the rest. Are you ready to talk some more?"   
Ziva nodded but didn't move from her prone position.   
"Do you want to stay like that?" Abby asked.   
"I like to feel your fingers playing with my hair and stroking my neck," Ziva  
said. "Abby, are you still sure that you want me, despite all my demons?"   
"I'm very sure, my Zee. You deserve to be loved and one day I will get you to  
believe that yourself." After a few moments of silence she asked, "You said that  
Jenny made the pain in your heart go away. How did she do that?"   
"She talked to me and she got me to talk. She held me, cared for me, made love  
to me. She punished me, she forgave me," Ziva answered softly and slowly with a  
tiny, almost imperceptible smile on her face.   
Abby still saw it and smiled back, "How did she punish you?"   
"Jenny spanked me when I needed it and the pain in my backside made the hurt in  
my soul go away."   
"When did you need to be punished?" Abby asked.   
"When I felt that something I did had endangered the mission or an innocent  
bystander needlessly or when I had a hard time to forgive myself for something I  
had to do during a mission or to solve a case. The last time was after the case  
with Hoffman and Michael Locke."   
"Did she only punish you when you asked for it or did she also take the  
initiative?"   
"I asked for it, most of the time. Sometimes she talked me out of it, put things  
into perspective, but there were three or four times she did not wait for me to  
ask. She just knew what I needed," Ziva answered.   
"Did you ever switch roles, Zee? Did you ever spank Jenny?"   
Ziva's eyes widened and her whole body tenses, "No! I would never have raised a  
hand against her, not even in jest."   
"Do you think you could have done it if she had asked you?"   
Ziva abruptly sat up and stared at Abby.   
"I do not know," she finally said. "Spanking me was hard for Jenny. She did not  
enjoy giving me pain, even for a good cause. Jenny once told me that her father  
never even raised his voice at her. Jenny would never have asked."   
"One day I might feel the need to be punished, Ziva. Would you do it?"   
Ziva studied Abby's mostly non-committal expression to gauge if she was serious  
or just testing her.   
"If you could convince me that you really needed it, then yes, I guess I could  
do it, though the mere thought of seeing you in pain is the last thing I would  
ever want, any kind of pain. But from what I got last night at the club, you are  
more likely to be the one holding the belt or whatever."   
"Yes, I am, Zee, but even a dominant sometimes needs to decompress, so to speak.  
If I had known that someone as unpleasant as that Ariel woman and her cronies  
would be at the club I never would have brought you there, not with a collar  
around your neck and without knowing the rules. I did not want to imply anything  
by letting you wear that collar."   
Abby was about to stand up and start pacing again. This time because she was  
nervous but Ziva stopped her by taking her hands in her own.   
"Do not worry, Abigail. It's alright. I enjoyed wearing your collar even if it  
did not mean what that woman though it did. I trust you, Abby, and one day I  
would be proud to wear it for the reason it was made. I know that it's very  
special for you. I saw it in the way Helen was looking at it," Ziva said.  
"The set was a gift from Helen. But Zee, do you really know what you'd get  
yourself into? I'm not much for full-time submission but I like to be in charge  
and whenever I am it's no longer a game."   
"I was trained to go undercover as a dominant in London before Jenny called me  
here. I know how to handle all those paddles and whips and restraints and  
bondage, and I know how it feels, but thanks to Jenny I never had to find out  
how good a dominant I would have made.   
"I'm sure that I would have a hard time with being bound. I have lived through  
the real thing far too often to see it as enjoyable. What I do know is that I  
liked the fit of the collar around my neck. I liked the way it looked and I  
liked the way it made me feel. I felt safe and protected and loved, but that's  
how being with you always makes me fee."   
Abby and Ziva held visual contact; their gazes were locked on the other and they  
slowly closed the distance between them. Their lips touched, tentatively at  
first but then Ziva opened herself up and Abby took the invitation. Just like  
the previous night Abby claimed Ziva's mouth and lips and tongue. And Ziva  
melted under the touch like she had never before, not even with Jenny. For a  
moment that thought gave her a slight pang in the heart but it felt too right to  
question it, too good, and Jenny had always wanted her to be happy.   
Ziva pulled Abby closer when the need for air forced them to stop kissing. From  
her point of view there had been enough talking and she had other, more  
pleasurable things in mind. She leaned back and pulled Abby with her. The brown  
of her eyes had darkened and she slipped her hands under the hem of Abby's  
silver shirt. Her skin was a bit colder than Ziva's hands and she tried to  
imagine what her tanned hand would look like retracing the tattooed cross on  
Abby's back.   
Ziva had never seen it but it and most of Abby's other tattoos were mentioned in  
Abby's personal file. She wanted to kiss every square centimetre of Abby's back  
but when she tried to get closer to her goal by pushing the shirt up Abby  
stopped her. She sat up again and pulled Ziva in a sitting position.   
"Stop Ziva. We're not finished talking. You have told me about your ghosts and  
demons but now you have to hear about mine. You are not the only one with  
darkness in her life and her soul, and in a way mine is…"   
Abby fell silent and cast her eyes down. She had never before even been tempted  
to tell anyone the whole truth about her and her past but Ziva deserved the  
truth. She deserved to know that Abby was not as happy go lucky as she appeared  
to be most of the time. Deep down she doubted that Ziva would even believe her,  
most of the time she did not believe it herself.   
Abby jumped up and started to pace. Ziva had trusted her. She had to return that  
trust but Abby did not know where to start, how to explain. Ziva saw the fear  
and indecision and panic on Abby's face and her libido cooled down instantly.  
She wanted to take all of it away. She wanted to carry her over to the bed and  
make love to her.   
"Abby, please, look at me, please, Abigail." Abby stopped pacing but it took a  
while until she had raised her head enough to see Ziva's eyes. "I trust you,  
Abigail. Whatever you're struggling with, I do not need to know. Those last  
three years, working with you, becoming your friend, falling in love with you I  
learned all I'll ever need to know about you."   
"But you need to know, Zee. It's only fair," Abby protested.   
"And you will tell me when the time is right, Abby-mine. I trust you."   
"I have to tell you, Ziva, as soon as you know you might not want to have  
anymore to do with me," Abby insisted. "I'm a monster, Ziva. I'm ha…"   
Ziva remembered the profile she once had compiled for Ari about everyone in  
contact with Special Agent Gibbs, including Forensic Specialist Abigail Sciuto  
and it was as if a whole chandelier was lit suddenly.   
So, she put her finger over Abby's lips and said, "No, Abigail. I know what  
you're talking about. You were a child and you were just defending yourself.  
Those men wanted to kidnap you. They had already killed your parents, Abby. You  
did what you had to do."   
"If not for me there would not have been a kidnapping. Those men wanted me, they  
wanted me. They died because of me. If they had not adopted me they could still  
be alive. I loved them and I got them killed, just like two of the kidnappers."  
"You were twelve years old, Abigail. You defended yourself."   
"I did more than that. I turned into a monster and it could happen again. I'm a  
killer," Abby said with a trembling voice.   
"Oh, Abby-mine, do not do that to yourself. You are not a monster and you are  
not a killer. I know what it means to be a killer. It makes you die inside,  
every time a bit more. You are not a killer, Abigail. A real killer would not  
waste a stray thought about his victims, you do. Yes, I believe that you are  
capable of killing, everyone is, but that does not make you a killer."   
"But Ziva, it's more…"   
Ziva pulled Abby forward and sealed Abby's lips with her own. When the kiss  
ended she once again put a finger over Abby's lips.   
"I know that it's not that easy, Abby. Life rarely is. I love you and I trust  
you and I'm looking forward to get to know everything about you, but for now I  
do not need to know everything. For now I trust my instincts, my gut, and both  
tell me that you are a genuinely good person and my head can provide my guts  
with three years worth of memories to prove that claim. I already know  
everything about you that is important to know. So, now, why don't you let me  
show you how much I love you, on the bed without all of those cumbersome  
articles of clothing? I want to make love to you and I want you to make love to  
me, today and tomorrow and every day after that," Ziva said seriously but with a  
twinkle in her eyes.   
Abby relaxed under Ziva's touch and gaze, relieved that she would not have to go  
into any detail and said, "That sounds like a long time plan, my Zee. I do not  
deserve it but it sounds too good to pass up. But are you really sure that you  
want to buy a pig in a poke? I'm hard to get rid off once you've got me."  
"Oh, I sincerely hope so, Abigail, but I do not know what a poke is or why you  
compare yourself to unkosher meat," Ziva said.

"Poke is an old Scottish word for bag or pouch. The expression means that you  
don't really know what you'll get when you open the bag. The sounds and the  
smell tell you that it's indeed a pig. They do not tell you if it's big or  
small, healthy, well-fed, docile or vicious. You can't really know."   
"The poke you came in is see-through, Abigail, and I do not want to get rid of  
you. Just being close to you feels so right. I never want that feeling to end.  
We will, of course, have to be careful at work because I do not want to end up  
as one of Gibbs' targets at the shooting range."   
"You're talking about Rule Number Twelve, right?" Abby asked.   
"Never date a co-worker, yes. Gibbs takes that one very seriously, and he also  
made it very clear that no one messes with his Abby. He would shoot me himself  
and let my body disappear should I ever hurt you – not that I would expect any  
less of him. I appreciate that he's so protective of you."   
"He's also very protective of you, Zee. He's protective of all of us but you  
have a special place in his heart. He wants what is best for both of us and though  
he might growl and stare he'll accept that you are what is best for me. He will  
come around and he knows better than most that some rules are meant to be  
broken. Trust me on that. I know the boss-man."   
"I'll always trust you. And now for something much more important. Wasn't there  
talk about going to the bedroom or do you want our first time to be in your  
coffin?" There was still in twinkle in Ziva's eyes but her voice was serious.   
"You would really do that, my Zee, in my coffin? Without being grossed out? Tim  
completely freaked."   
"I'm not as easy to scare as Timothy, Abby-mine. I want to make love to you and  
I don't care if we do it on the couch, the bathtub, the coffin, the back of your  
car, the desk in the interrogation room, the sleeping bag in your lab."   
"Possibilities over possibilities," Abby answered Ziva's playful question with a  
smile. For now, however, I want to be comfortable while I explore your beautiful  
body, my Zee, from head to toe and back again, and maybe, just maybe, when I had  
my fill of seeing you squirm under my touch I might give you the chance to  
retaliate," Abby said with a wide grin.   
Ziva grinned back when she asked, "Do I now have to demurely tell you that I am  
at your command, Mistress Abigail?"   
"No, my Zee, never. We will play together and I will command you then but now I  
just want to enjoy my new lover. Come, this weekend won't last forever and there  
is so much to explore."   
Ziva heard the caution in Abby's voice but didn't comment on it. She already had  
decided that she would do everything in her power to make Abby happy. She let  
herself be pulled to her feet and they walked the few steps to the bedroom, hand  
in hand.

-x-x-x-

Abby quickly undressed herself. She too was not wearing any panties and Ziva's  
heart skipped a beat when she saw Abby's clean shaven mons. She had already  
taken off the cardigan but her hands were frozen on the hem of her top at that  
sight. She wanted to sink down in front of her and just inhale the smell but  
suddenly Abby was right in front of her and pulled the top over Ziva's head. She  
opened the string holding the yoga pants. Ziva heard them sink to the floor but  
the next moment coherent thought completely fled her.   
Abby's lips were on her but instead of claiming her as she had done earlier she  
started a playful exploration. Ziva responded in kind. Her hands were roaming  
over Abby's back and buttocks. Her heartbeat picked up. She felt herself moving  
and suddenly they were on the bed, side by side, still in each others arms,  
still kissing.   
When they finally had to break the kiss Ziva saw that Abby's eyes hand changed  
color form their usual deep green to a dark forest green with silver-blue  
sparkles, unaware that her own orbs had also darkened considerably. Abby licked  
her lips, if instinctually or intentionally Ziva couldn't tell but it was more  
than she could resist.   
She darted forward and kissed Abby. She claimed her as she had been claimed and  
rolled on her back, pulling Abby on top of her. One of Abby's knees came to rest  
between Ziva's thighs and Ziva pulled the taller woman even closer. For a few  
precious moments Abby gave in and let her weight rest completely on Ziva, but  
then she pushed her weight up on an arm and a knee. She broke the kiss and  
Ziva's disappointed sigh sent shivers through her body.   
Abby kissed the tip of Ziva's nose and began to lay a trail of butterfly kisses  
along the jaw line and down the throat. She saw Ziva's pulse point throbbing in  
rhythm with her heartbeat and resisted the urge to suckle it and leave a mark.  
Abby kissed her way down to the valley between Ziva's breasts and then up to the  
right nipple. It was already hard and Abby drew it gently between her teeth.  
Ziva arched her back for more contact and Abby used her free hand to stroke the  
other breast. Ziva's moan was deep and needy. Abby rolled the nipple between her  
thumb and index finger, goosebumps on Ziva's skin.   
"Abby please."   
Abby moved her knee closer to Ziva's centre, just enough for a slightly brushing  
touch. Ziva squirmed under her and Abby smiled around the nipple she was now  
flicking.   
Ziva was so incredibly responsive, it was fantastic, addictive, arousing, the  
perfect submissive. And then Ziva let her hands that had rested on Abby's hips  
roam over her backside but not in the more or leas random pattern she had used  
earlier, no, Ziva's fingers were retracing the contours of the cross on her  
back, the contours of a cross she had never actually seen.   
Abby felt heat shooting towards her centre. She felt the wetness between her  
thighs. She smelled the scent of her own arousal mingling with Ziva's sweet  
scent. Abby wanted to taste her but she also wanted to draw it out a bit longer,  
so she repositioned her weight on her other arm and closed her lips around the  
other breast.   
The tips of Ziva's fingers had found a rhythm on her back, retracing first the  
outer and then the inner contour of the tattoo. She pressed against Ziva's blunt  
fingernails and groaned around the nipples when a wave of power rolled from her  
back through her whole body and finally settled in her heart. Patience and  
exploration forgotten, she pushed herself down between Ziva's willingly  
spreading legs and went down on her.   
The scent became overpowering before Abby had even reached her goal. She licked  
the wetness from the outer folds and then parted them with the tip of her  
tongue, indulging in her first taste of Ziva's sweet nectar. And it might just  
be the best thing she ever had tasted. It was musky and sweet, a bit salty and  
succulent, just like Ziva herself absolutely intoxicating. Abby decided that  
feasting on Ziva could possibly become one of her favorite things to do. It was  
so good, and Ziva's moans and groans were music to her ears.   
"Please, Abby, I need to touch you," Ziva finally begged.   
Abby reached for Ziva's hands and guided them one after the other to Ziva's  
breasts without interrupting her caresses of Ziva's centre. And Abby's  
ministrations were so distracting that it took Ziva a while before she  
understood that Abby wanted her to play with her nipples and breasts. Abby's  
hands had slid down back to her hips and held her firmly.   
Ziva closed her eyes, the hands holding her securely, her own hands doing Abby's  
bidding, her centre on fire just from being licked, her heart beating in her  
throat. Ziva let herself go, she abandoned her defences and gave herself over to  
those sensations. She felt free, light, safe, whole.   
And then Abby pressed her tongue flat against Ziva's engorged clitoris. Ziva  
reflexively pinched her nipples, her abdominal muscles clenched and her hips  
bucked.   
Abby kept up the pressure for a few heartbeats. She felt Ziva's rapidly beating  
heart in the pulsing of her clit. Her own nipples were stone hard and throbbing  
with need.   
Ziva begged, "Please, Abby, take me, make me yours, please go inside. Let me  
feel you taking me."   
The throaty voice and desperate pleas almost sent Abby over the edge but she  
sternly called herself to order. She wanted to feel her fingers squeezed by  
Ziva's inner muscles but not just yet. So, she abandoned the hard, enticing nub  
and returned her attention to Ziva's folds. There was so much wetness to lap up,  
so much to explore and taste and commit to memory.   
Her thumbs stroked Ziva's still raised hips soothingly until she let them sink  
back on the mattress. Abby wanted to praise her for understanding her signals so  
well but that would have meant to stop what she was doing. It would therefore  
have to wait.   
When she was sure that Ziva had calmed down and had gotten used to her caresses  
she removed her hands from Ziva's hips and began to stroke her left thigh and  
her flat hard-muscled stomach. She could feel Ziva's muscles ripple under her  
fingers and the thought that Ziva could just throw her off of her at a moment's  
notice let Abby lose more of her tenuous hold on her own arousal.   
Abby knew that she was running out of time. So, she pressed her left hand flat  
on Ziva's stomach and entered her vagina with three fingers. They entered easily  
and she pushed in as deeply as she could. Ziva's walls immediately closed around  
the intruders. Abby bent down and began to lick Ziva's clit.   
Ziva's inner muscles clenched even more. Abby tried to wriggle her fingers to  
give her even more stimulation but Ziva was too strong. She had her effectively  
trapped, unable to remove her fingers. It took Abby's whole concentration to get  
the first joint of her index finger to move up and down, and it had been just at  
the right place and angle.   
Ziva's whole body tensed and shuddered. She shouted Abby's name over and over  
again, in between a lot of ohs and ahs and gods. And Abby was propelled into a  
strong climax as well, sweeping both of them away. It left her just enough  
control to roll to the side before she collapsed next to Ziva.   
While Ziva was still riding out the last waves of her orgasm, Abby's left hand  
was already soothingly stroking Ziva's stomach and sides. The clenching finally  
subsided and Abby gently pulled out, eliciting a disappointed sigh from Ziva.  
Abby quickly licked her hand clean and started to clean Ziva's folds and thighs  
with her tongue. She didn't want to waste a single drop of Ziva's divine nectar.  
She took her time but she also did not draw it out unnecessarily. It was only  
meant as a soothing gesture, not to send them right into another bout of  
love-making.   
When she was finished she crawled up to the headboard, stretched out next to  
Ziva and pulled her on her side and half on top of her taller body. Ziva  
snuggled against her side and let her head rest on Abby's shoulder. Her eyes  
were closed and her breathing still ragged. A few minutes of comfortable silence  
later Ziva opened her eyes and made visual contact with Abby.   
She smiled up to her and said, "Thank you, Abigail. Now, it's my turn, yes."  
"We have time, my Zee. You were so beautiful that I too had my fill, and you  
taste so good that I would love to just start all over again."   
"I want to taste you, Abby. I have dreamed of tasting you for so long, please,  
Abigail."   
Abby gave her one of those 'able to illuminate DC' smiles and kissed her. She  
considered asking Ziva about the small tattoo at the inside of her right thigh,  
but Ziva's pleading let her decide that it could wait.   
The kiss quickly turned passionate and this time Abby let Ziva take the lead,  
and she quickly found out that Ziva was as breathtakingly beautiful providing  
pleasure as she was at receiving it. After that she quickly lost command of her  
mental capabilities.   
Ziva made good on her promise to explore every single square centimetre of  
Abby's body. She was methodical and playful at the same time. Her eyes were  
almost black with desire and every time her gaze met Abby's a new wave of  
arousal rushed directly to Abby's centre. She moaned and pleaded and Ziva  
complied with every single one of Abby's requests, holding her at the brink of  
orgasm for what seemed to her to be an eternity. And then she started to talk.  
Ziva told Abby how beautiful she was and how much she loved that particular  
dimple or freckle or the eternity tattoo on her left ankle and the ankh on her  
shoulder, in French. She talked about Abby's eyes and her smile and how sexy she  
found the way Abby arched her back and the hard pebbles of her nipples.  
"Tellement belle, mon amour. T'es ma beauté sans defaut," Ziva whispered in  
Abby's ear while stroking one of her breasts and flicking her clit, "mon âme  
sans blame. Je t' aime, ma belle, ma douce mignonne, ma savante accomplie."  
Ziva kept whispering during Abby's orgasm and while she slowly calmed down, and  
when she was sure that Abby was alert enough to really understand what she was  
saying she added, "I love you, Abigail Sciuto."   
Abby gave her that special smile, that smile that never failed to let her heart  
skip a beat.   
"Je t'aime aussi, Ziva David, mon étoile resplendissante."   
"You understand me?" Ziva asked in surprise.   
"I grew up in New Orleans, my Zee, you can't grow up there without picking up at  
least a bit of French, and later my teachers insisted that I needed to be fluent  
in at least one language other than English to have a well-rounded education,  
but I'm not half as good at languages as you are. They don't come naturally to  
me."   
"Science comes naturally to you, that's more important than languages."  
They both smiled, yawned and started to giggle like children. They still quickly  
fell asleep, wrapped in each other's embrace and woke up in a tangle of legs and  
arms in the early afternoon.

-x-x-x-

It was still warm and relatively early when Abby and Ziva returned from their  
early dinner at an Italian restaurant Abby liked. The food had been delicious  
but they both had been drawn back to the apartment. Saturday was almost gone and  
there was so much left to explore. They undressed quickly and climbed back into  
the bed.   
They faced each other and pulled the comforter up to their naked shoulders. They  
looked at each other, both on the verge of giving into their desires and spend  
the night making love. They didn't touch, instinctively knowing that the  
slightest skin contact would wash away their will to talk.   
"You said that me wearing your collar is not a game, earlier. I need to know  
what you mean by that. I need to know how much submission you need or expect or  
want," Ziva said after she had focused her thoughts away from the inviting  
curves of Abby's breasts visible under the thin comforter.   
Abby's eyes widened. Ziva felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach when she  
didn't answer immediately but she kept visual contact with Abby. She gave her a  
tiny smile. It was as if she were able to see Abby think, like in the lab when  
she was about to come up with a new way to find the evidence her team needed,  
just more subtle.   
"No one ever asked me that, Ziva, and I really don't know how to answer that. I  
know what I don't want. I don't want a full-time submissive, a slave. I want a  
partner who enjoys to follow my orders unconditionally every once in a while,  
almost unconditionally since there's the safeword and I'll never disrespect  
that. I want a partner who can put me in my place when I get too full of myself.  
I never want to forget that my partner's submission is a great gift."   
Ziva put her hand on Abby's hand lying between them on the sheet. Abby smiled as  
if to thank her.   
"The truth is, Zee, that even if the collar you wore that night will never be  
more for us than an accessory I would still be happy just having you at my side.  
I have never felt what I feel for you. I don't need your submission. I need your  
love."   
Ziva squeezed the hand she had been holding and raised it up to her neck, "I  
liked the way the collar felt around my throat, the way it made me feel, but I  
will not wear it just for aesthetic reasons. It means too much to you, yes."  
"Oh, sweet Ziva," Abby pulled Ziva close and kissed her exuberantly. "You are  
right, my Zee, the set means a lot to me. Aside from the belt and the collar  
there are cuffs and a leash and nipple-clamps, but I do not care if we ever use  
them. You are more important than that."   
"I want to be yours, Abigail. It makes me feel safe and grounded and loved. I do  
not know how much submission I can give you, yes. I know I can play a submissive  
and do it convincingly. Playing roles was part of my Kidon training. We learned  
to show people what they want to see while keeping the better part of ourselves  
protected, set apart and focused on the mission. I don't want to play roles with  
you, not like that. I will need your lead… your guidance."   
"Then you will have to choose a safeword, my Zee," Abby said.   
She tried to keep her expression neutral but Ziva could see that she was not  
completely at ease, so she answered without hesitation, "Shepard."   
"It's a good choice, Ziva. Whenever you use Jenny's last name I'll stop whatever  
we're doing, no questions asked and we will talk about what went wrong. Usually  
when I prepare a scene with a submissive I do not know well I let them answer a  
questionnaire about their limits, things they like, things they don't like,  
things they don't do, things they'd like to try, but I doubt that this would be  
the best way with you. We will just have to find out step by step, learning by  
doing."   
"Actions speak louder than words, yes?" Ziva said with a disarming smile.   
"Much louder, my Zee, and I think we had enough words for now. I'd rather make  
love to you."   
"I'd like that, Abby-mine."   
They embarked on another journey of discovery that lasted far into the next  
night with a few hours of sleep in between short talks, lengthy sessions of  
love-making, careful explorations of Ziva's submissiveness, a gallon of ice  
cream, long drawn-out showers and the simple feeling of holding the other and  
having the other all to themselves.

-x-x-x-

Over the next weeks the necessities of work were relegated to the back of both  
their minds. They did their work with their usual dedication but both of them  
couldn't get home fast enough to be alone. Ziva used her safeword once when Abby  
bound her naked to a chair, that is, she slipped out of the restraints and then  
used her safeword. She had been right during their first talk when she had said  
that being bound in any way reminded her too much of the times she had been held  
captive for real to find it in any way enjoyable, but Abby found ways around  
that.   
There were quite a few bondage styles that let her enjoy the sight of Ziva's  
skin flushed under tight ropes without impeding Ziva's freedom of movement and  
thus her deeply engrained need of having to be able to defend herself and Abby  
at any given moment. It was a need more deeply anchored in her than any training  
ever could.

-x-x-x-

On a Wednesday afternoon Gibbs waylaid them in the elevator and stopped it  
between levels. He told them in no uncertain terms that he was not happy with  
either of them and that they should get over it.   
Ziva pulled Abby closer and put her arm around the taller woman's waist. She  
looked Gibbs into the eyes and said, "No, Gibbs. We are in love. I will not give  
Abby up, under no circumstances."   
"I could send you back to Israel,"   
"I would not go," Ziva said.   
"No, I would go with her, boss-man. I love her with everything that I am."   
Gibbs smiled at them, a wide smile almost never seen on his face and hugged them  
both but before he got too sentimental he stepped back again, looked at  
Ziva and said, "If you ever intentionally hurt her, Ziver, you'll find that this  
world is not big enough for you to hide from me, understood?"   
"I would not want it any other way, Gibbs."   
"And you," he turned to Abby. "Don't hurt her, or else!"   
"Do not threaten her, Gibbs," Ziva said darkly.   
He just smiled and reactivated the lift. When they had reached the garage level  
he said, "And no groping on duty. Got me?"   
They both nodded dutifully and walked hand in hand to Abby's car. Ziva was  
driving and when they had left the Navy Yard Abby said, "That went better than  
expected. I thought he would make more of a fuss. Not that I'm disappointed,  
it's just that I had this great speech all prepared, ready to go at a moment's  
notice, and now I didn't even need it. So, when will we tell the rest of the  
team?"   
"I think Ducky already knows, he has this smile. And Tony noticed that I stopped  
reading the real estate adds during lunch break. We could invite all of them to  
dinner and tell them then."   
"Then let's do it on Saturday. We could cook together, one of my grand-mother's  
recipes."   
"I would like that, Abigail."

The End

The END


End file.
